Not that important
by Misila
Summary: "Why did you do that? If you hadn't, you wouldn't be hurt and maybe I'd have died at last." / "You have this habit of making questions you just answer yourself."


_**Not that important**_

.

The strong smell of hydrogen peroxide was the only thing preventing him from completely falling asleep on the sofa. An amber light bathed the scene with an invisible sleepiness that slowly but surely covered him, sheltering his senses from the intermittent stinging in his naked back.

A question left his lips, muffled by the arms he was using as a pillow. Cautious fingers pressed on the small of his back, prompting Kunikida to turn his head to make himself understood. His tired gaze fixed on the bloodstained gauzes forgotten on the table, on the one where there was a small pile of shards from a broken window, nose scrunching up in disgust.

"Aren't you done yet?" he eventually repeated, squinting to focus his sight. His glasses had broken about one hour ago.

The warm weight pressing against his hip, sitting on the edge of the sofa, shifted; Kunikida didn't register it until dark, messy locks blocked the light, a weary smile brushing a kiss under his ear.

"Almost."

Dazai was back to getting rid of the pieces of glass as quickly as he had paused.

"That's what you said fifteen minutes ago," Kunikida grumbled. He hissed when Dazai picked another fragment.

"I'm no doctor," his partner replied nonchalantly, leaving the shard with the others and grabbing a clean gauze. "If you wanted speed, you should have asked Yosano-san. Besides, now it's true, I'm almost–– Kunikida-kun?"

Kunikida hadn't been able to keep still at the mention of their colleague; the shudder that run down his spine raised goosebumps on his arms.

"I don't feel like nearly dying tonight, thanks."

Dazai chuckled. "Good to know."

The silence that followed, though, had nothing from the lightness Dazai's laughter had just shed on the room. His free hand curled on Kunikida's waist, the soft taps against his wounds now methodical and cold. Risking a glance behind, Kunikida noticed the deep frown set between Dazai's eyebrows, the thin line his lips drew.

Figuring out what his partner was thinking about wasn't hard.

"Daz––"

"I think I pulled all the fragments out. Do you want to get it bandaged?"

Kunikida grunted. Ignoring the sharp pain running through his back and the giddiness caused by the scent of oxygenated water, he knelt up and turned to face Dazai, whose expression was half hidden behind the bandage he had already started to unroll.

"Dazai," he repeated, grabbing the man's wrists and lowering them to see his face, "it's fine."

His partner only looked away.

"Why did you do that?" Kunikida raised an eyebrow, feeling Dazai's wrists shift between his fingers as he fiddled with the bandage. "If you hadn't, you wouldn't be hurt and maybe I'd have died at last."

Kunikida let his mind wander back to the bomb in the building on the outskirts; luckily there had been no casualties, Dazai and he the only ones whose lives had actually been in danger. The memory made his heart leap to his throat again, eyes closing as he recalled pushing his partner to the floor the second it all had blown up, the odd feeling of a warm, trembling body under his as a quivery voice in the shape of his name broke the silence (hesitant, timid, _scared_ ), shock and adrenaline numbing the pain until Dazai pushed him off and the world started moving again.

"You have this habit of making questions you just answer yourself," Kunikida whispered. "I'm not letting you die and leave me with all the work."

Dazai's hands curled into fists.

"You leaving me all the work isn't fair either."

Kunikida exhaled a sigh. "Listen." He let go of Dazai's wrists, cradled the side of his face to coax him to stop glaring at the arm of the sofa. "You're alright and if these get infected all I have to do is asking Yosano-san to torture me a bit. It's alright."

He inched forward to press a kiss to Dazai's pout, leant his forehead against his partner's as bandaged hands took the one Kunikida had left between them.

"I'm not that important," Dazai muttered in a tiny voice, almost to himself.

"Luckily not many people agree with you."

Dazai shook his head. His eyes closed for a second, only to open wide again.

"I almost forgot…" He drew back, shoved a hand into the pocket of his trench coat, which he had left on the back of the sofa. "I hadn't planned it to be like this, but… Close your eyes, Kunikida-kun."

Kunikida's gaze flew from Dazai's suddenly energetic expression to the hand in the pocket, suspicious.

"Why?"

"Just for a second."

It wasn't as if he could do anything else. Kunikida obeyed, frowned when he felt a familiar brush in both his temples; even so he was surprised when he opened his eyes to see Dazai's little smile was clear thanks to the glasses resting on his nose.

"This…" he started. He took them off, raised his eyebrows when he saw they were similar to the ones that were now useless. "I mean–– Thank you, but why––"

Dazai shrugged.

"No reason," he admitted. He tilted his head to the side as Kunikida put the glasses on again. "But now I guess there is one."

He leant into Kunikida again, sneaking his arms around his waist so as to not touch any wound. Kunikida's hands automatically found their way around Dazai to bring him closer, a smile curling his lips as two warm words brushed the base of his neck.

"Thank you."

* * *

Thoughts? ^^


End file.
